


Between the Silence:  A Twelve Verse Refrain

by levitatethis



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angst, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levitatethis/pseuds/levitatethis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Mohinder and Sylar are working together to track down key Company employees when an unexpected name turns up</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Silence:  A Twelve Verse Refrain

**_and I hope there's a sign ~~ I hope that it leads me well ~~ on the way ~~ I hope there's a sign ~~ and I hope I can read it right ~~ it seems I've had a lifelong headcold ~~ full of negatives, mindwarps and eclipsing suns   
\- i mother earth, pisser   
_**  
Mohinder cannot say how long he has been staring at the letter in his hands.

Somewhere in the middle of reading it his mind shut in on itself. Maybe only one minute has passed or maybe ten. If it were possible he would unread the typed information that he is now unable to take back and hide from sight.

The unexpected is one thing, but this—

Hearing a throat clear Mohinder glances up from the café table at Sylar who is now standing next to him with two hot drinks in hand. The curious look in Sylar's eyes tells Mohinder he has been watching for some time.

Maybe it was five minutes.

Mohinder quickly folds up the letter and stuffs it in the envelope away from Sylar's prying eyes. Being partnered up to find key Company employees to "take them out" requires an element of informational trust between them. At some point he will have to share this letter, but Mohinder cannot bring himself to do it right now.

Sylar puts both their drinks on the table and sits down while keeping his eyes trained on Mohinder's.

"Who's the lucky person?" Sylar asks.

Mohinder hesitates as he decides how much information he is willing to share.

"Researcher. Tokyo based. She's attending a conference in London."

Mohinder waits for Sylar to pick up the only vital word in his purposely vague description.

"Researcher?"

Mohinder sighs and places the envelope in his jacket pocket.

"She's discovered the gene that carries the powers sequence…and has developed a vaccine that would render it useless…Parents could use it on their children before they ever exhibited signs."

The look of disgust on Sylar's face is not surprising to Mohinder.

"Why would anyone want to do that?"

"Not all parents would want to take the risk that their children's ability might be destructive. For every person who could do something as relatively innocent as changing the colour of an object through touch there is someone who could create a nuclear bomb in his hand."

Sylar's closely watching eyes tell Mohinder he is not happy with the explanation.

"That sounds like mad science—trying to manipulate the natural progression of the evolutionary chain. It's—, "

Mohinder pushes his drink away while Sylar stops mid-sentence. Mohinder's impenetrable eyes are met with Sylar's questioning ones.

"It's motivation enough for me," Sylar completes what he is saying.

Mohinder looks down at his drink, suddenly not thirsty. It is moments like these when he despises the life that his choices have created.

 

**_hello darkness my old friend ~~ i've come to talk with you again ~~ because a vision softly creeping ~~ left its seeds while i was sleeping ~~ and the vision that was planted in my brain ~~ still remains ~~ within the sound of silence   
\- simon and garfunkel, the sound of silence   
_**  
The deafening silence is a first for them.

Their car trips between destinations, from one mark to the next, have always been infused with an essence that is specifically them. Initially sarcastic jabs had transformed over time into mutually accepted conversations. At times a quiet settled between them but never a silence.

This silence is heavy.   
Suffocating—   
Constricting—

Mohinder, leaning his head back in the passenger seat, keeps his eyes forward while his mind refuses to detach itself from the letter in his pocket. Out of the corner of his eye Mohinder can see Sylar glancing his way every few minutes.

Suddenly the car swerves off the road and onto the shoulder, screeching to a stop. Mohinder defensively braces his left arm against the door while lifting his feet back.

"What the hell are you doing?" Mohinder demands glaring at Sylar, but he already knows the answer.

Sylar turns the ignition and shuts the car off. Leaning back against the door and his seat he directs the "no bullshit" look at Mohinder.

"We're not going any further until you tell me what's in the letter."

"What does it matter if I tell you now or at the hotel?" asks Mohinder in irritation as he tries to avoid dealing with the issue plaguing his mind.

"It doesn't," Sylar responds. "Which is why you're going to tell me now."

A tense stare down ensues until Mohinder turns his gaze back out the windshield and huffs the order, "Just drive."

"This isn't a negotiation, Mohinder…we can either do this the painless way or a way I know you won't be so appreciative of."

The barely disguised warning, one Mohinder knows Sylar will follow through with, breaks a small crack in his resolve. Regretfully Mohinder reaches into his pocket and removes the folded envelope. Without looking at Sylar he hands it over.

Cars speeding by cannot drown out the thundering sound in his ears of Sylar unfolding the envelope, opening it and pulling out the letter. Mohinder does not look over as he hears the un-crinkling of the paper and the soft muttering of Sylar's reading it out.

When Mohinder does look over he sees Sylar's knitted brow while his eyes ingest the words. Then the flicker of recognition reveals itself and surprise replaces confusion.

"Is this—,"

"Yes."

 

**_why don't we end this lie ~~ i can't pretend this time ~~ i need a friend to find, my broken mind ~~ before it falls to pieces   
\- billy talent, this suffering   
_**  
During their first road trip, when Mohinder was more hopeful yet lonely and Sylar was pretending to be an awkward music-phile, they had shared particle pieces of their past in terms that were uncomplicated yet weighed down with haunted emotion.

Certain names on both their parts found their ways to the surface. Unspoken details hung in the air, neither pushing the other for information than what was willfully shared.

Names of the dead, and of those left behind, helped each man construct a crude past for the other.

Her name had bubbled to the surface a few times in Mohinder's stories. The only persons he spoke of more were his family. Her significance, then, was chiseled in stone.

A friend. A confidante. A colleague. Intellectually equal.

A disbeliever.

A lover.

Now he is being sent to kill her.

 

**_i've never been this sad before ~~ but i'm offended by my fingertips ~~ and what they've done ~~ if i look up in your eyes ~~ well if it must be true ~~ you must believe ~~ i never held such violent things   
\- our lady peace, big dumb rocket   
_**  
There are a few different tactics employed by Mohinder and Sylar when staking out a marked target.

Sometimes they simply use a photograph as a guide and take out the target before he or she even knows what has happened. On occasion, depending on the reason for a person being on the list, either Mohinder or Sylar will make contact with the target and engage in some sort of innocent information sharing as a set up for the eventual final meeting.

Professionally played, their maneuvers run smoothly with an expediency to be admired. There is rarely a fight over who might step into the field and only a handful of times have arguments broken out over what abilities Sylar chooses to use (a harsh reality that Mohinder feels he will—gladly—never get accustomed to).

Debates over strategic moves are common, matched by the unflinching zeal they put behind their reasoning and the respect they show the other by actually listening.

There is a precision to their flow.

The instant Mira's name is spoken out loud however their latest mission becomes the cruelest of realities.

Besides Mohinder's head feeling trapped in a static haze, he also feels Sylar's presence more firmly at his side, as if attached to his hip. No matter how hard Mohinder tries he is unable to shake Sylar. Everywhere he turns, Sylar seems to be there. Even going to the washroom in a pub involves Sylar's alert eyes and questioning tone, "Where are you going?" before following Mohinder.

Walking around the shops in the neighborhood they have come to set themselves up in until they are ready to make their move finds Mohinder's steps matched by Sylar's next to him.

Mohinder's overwhelming claustrophobia is no longer limited to his worry about Mira, now it includes Sylar's formidable being. Mohinder wonders if Sylar's change in behaviour is little more than the worry that Mohinder, if allowed out of his sight, will derail everything or if there is an element of jealousy towards Mohinder's genuine concern for someone Sylar has never met yet feels his own position in Mohinder's life threatened by.

Mohinder dismisses the latter as idiotic thinking. Although he has never vocalized the nonsensical companionship he has come to feel with Sylar he is not sure if Sylar can read it below the surface or in the tone of his words. Mohinder senses a similar undercurrent emanating from Sylar, but it too remains unspoken therefore making it difficult to confirm.

The one thing Mohinder does know is that Mira's name has brought along with it an invisible tug of war that has no rules or regulations, and certainly no clear outcome.

 

**_courage ~~ my word ~~ it didn't come, it doesn't matter ~~ courage ~~ it couldn't come at a worse time   
\- the tragically hip, courage   
_**  
"This is a surprise," Mira says with a small smile.

Sitting at a small table located at the back of the coffee shop with Sylar at his side drumming his fingers on the tabletop and sipping a mocha latte, Mohinder had anticipated Mira's arrival with mixed feelings. After deliberately leaving a sparsely detailed message on her voicemail about meeting for drinks Mohinder had wanted to immediately snatch the words back.

A sickening nervousness twisted his stomach at the thought of seeing her again. They had been quite close at one time, differing only in their views of his father's work—maybe that difference was too much to ever overcome.

To now find her working for The Company only emphasized Mohinder's strained feelings. He wants to give her the benefit of the doubt; that she had not known the extent of what she was signing up for. But a nagging thought tells him she could have walked into this life with eyes wide open.

Seeing her now Mohinder instinctively smiles. The last time they had spoken (and her message from the night before detailing where to meet today had not counted) was not long after his father's funeral and it had been awkwardly encased in unrequited feelings and personal distractions.

Standing up, Mohinder replies, "A pleasant one I hope?"

Mira gives him a familiar smile and softly says, "It always is."

They share a warm, long awaited hug, as past obstacles slowly melt away. Taking a step back from each other friendly eyes appreciate the visual reminder of a home they once knew together.

For a moment Mohinder forgets Sylar is watching them until he sees Mira cast a quick look to his right. Feeling Sylar get to his feet Mohinder remembers his manners.

"Gabriel, this is Mira, a friend from India. Mira, this is Gabriel, a colleague of mine from America. "

Mohinder's eyes shift between them as they politely shake hands all the while casting suspicious eyes while they size each other up as if trying to figure out how the other person fits into a position of importance in Mohinder's life.

Once they are all seated Mohinder asks, "You only have about twenty minutes right?"

Mira, who has not taken her wondering eyes off of Sylar, redirects her attention to Mohinder.

"I think I can stick around for a bit longer," she replies.

"Would you like a drink?" Mohinder tries to keep the mood light for the time being.

Mohinder watches Mira glance at Sylar quickly before answering.

"No, thank you…we should use our limited time to talk."

 

**_you had no time for corruption ~~ you felt that the world was an unsafe place ~~ you had worked towards a solution ~~ but the best you could do ~~ was to send me away   
\- hard core logo, blue tattoo   
_**  
"Your mother misses you," Mira shares in a muted tone.

Mohinder looks up at her with an expression of surprise. He had no idea that Mira kept in touch with his family. Without thinking he glances Sylar's way but is unable to read his expression.

Mohinder dislikes discussing details about his family with Sylar for a variety of reasons. A reminder of the brutal connection between them that will forever define one aspect of who they are, Mohinder finds that by keeping the topic superficial with Sylar he can pretend that it does not bear down on him during their daily interactions.

Mira catches Mohinder's startled look and explains, "I talk to her once a week. Just because you and I didn't work out…you should call her."

Feeling reprimanded, and rightly so, Mohinder stumbles out an excuse.

"Yes, I…things have been busy and…"

The excuse sounds pathetic to his own ears as it rolls off of his tongue and he can only imagine what Mira must think. Sadly, Mohinder realizes that Sylar is the one person who understands.

"She's only a phone call away," Mira retorts. "So am I."

 

_**what have i become? ~~ my sweetest friend ~~ everyone i know ~~ goes away in the end   
\- nine inch nails, hurt   
**_  
For a few minutes Mohinder and Mira rehash bits of a shared past. Mohinder finds he still feels a comfort with her, a hold over from days long gone. But there is also now a sense of the past being in the past. By the time they had parted ways they had both grown apart and the passage of time has not closed that distance, but it has made it less fractured.

Shared laughter and smiles over remembrances that pertain to only them are a thrill for Mohinder to relive in his mind although they are now coated in a nostalgia he does not feel the need to reclaim.

Mohinder smiles inwardly at the understanding that seeing Mira again is allowing him a sense of closure to their past, a luxury they had not had before. On this day, this moment is something new for them.

Mohinder hears Sylar shift next to him and supposes that the conversation must bore him out of this mind. Mohinder knows he will have to get to the real reason for wanting this meeting, but for now he wants to enjoy the simplicity of what life could be.

Mira is the type of target they should have been able to take out already. It was unnecessary to establish a meeting first.

This face-to-face trip down memory lane has come at Mohinder's forcible insistence.

Sylar's agreement to let it happen is an extended courtesy.

They both know this is borrowed time.

 

**_so we struggle and we stagger ~~ down the snakes and up the ladders   
\- leonard cohen, closing time   
_**  
"I've been hearing some incredible things about your research—groundbreaking is the term most often used," Mohinder begins his careful broach of the issue at hand.

Mira looks at him taken aback at his awareness of her work.

Mohinder casually continues, "You know genetics researchers…even worldwide we can be a relatively tight knit group."

"Mmmm, yes," Mira rolls her eyes and smiles while leaning forward with her arms resting on the table. "Gossip, the drug of the masses."

Sylar smirks.

"Remember the promotion I got with that company—the job that might have been yours had you not left for America?" Mira explains.

Mohinder looks sideways at Sylar who is at once resting dark eyes on him.

"Yes," Mohinder answers and focuses back on Mira.

"It was an offshoot of the company I'm with now," Mira goes on. "Mohinder, if you could see the facilities, the equipment…the minds I deal with on a daily basis, the type of research expected and funded…you would…you really should be part of it."

Mohinder leans forward closing the distance between himself and Mira in an attempt to keep their words at a suitably low decibel level.

"And your work—," he starts.

"I was able to isolate an anomaly, a genetic marker passed down that enables a person to do remarkab le things…but you already know that don't you, Mohinder? You're your father's son. It was only a matter of time until our paths crossed again and you could say 'I told you so.'"

There is a trace of humour in Mira's tone; still Mohinder can read the accusatory defensiveness in her voice. Mohinder quickly moves into offensive position.

"It was good work Mira, _until_ the vaccine," he says.

"The vaccine itself is not a bad thing Mohinder," Mira counters.

Sylar scoffs his condescension and turns in his chair so that he is facing Mohinder. He leans his right arm on the table, bringing himself into their personal space, while wordlessly aligning himself with Mohinder.

Looking between them both Mira tentatively continues.

"We know that these abilities do not all manifest equally. Some are relatively harmless while others can be destructive and unstable. The vaccine was meant to…level out the playing field at the lowest denominator so that even a hard lined power would not cause irreparable damage."

"But that's not what it's being used for is it?" Sylar jabs and Mohinder tries to quiet him with a sharply uttered, "Gabriel!"

Focusing on Sylar, Mira emphatically states her position. "Not necessarily, but—,"

"Not at all," Sylar interrupts.

Mohinder raises his right hand towards Sylar's chest in a silent gesture that he should watch his tone. The flicker he notices in Mira's eyes tells him the gesture suggests something unexpectedly familiar between him and Sylar. Quickly Mohinder drops his hand to the table.

"I would love to live in a world where people can openly—and trustingly—surpass the expectations of human limitations," Mira admits. "But the truth is there are those who cannot be trusted…those who would use their ability to annihilate everything in their way. The consequences of those few could be catastrophic in rendering the rest of the human race expendable."

Keeping his arms on the table, Mohinder leans back and purposely avoids looking at Sylar. Mira's words of cautioning truth make their point and Mohinder notices the tension in Sylar's body, all directed into a tightly clenched fist.

"What a moving justification for—," Sylar sarcastically tones.

"I understand your concerns Mira, I do," Mohinder genuinely relates to her. "But the vaccine is not being used to even out all the potential abilities at the same acceptable level. It's being used to permanently remove any and all abilities in their entirety."

"At the rate these abilities are manifesting we don't have time to allow them to run rampant while trying to play catch up," Mira argues. "We need to control them first, learn from them and then guide them."

"And who decides what's acceptable and when?" Sylar questions angrily. "Who decides what the limitations should be? You're messing with biology. You're going against human evolution."

Still leaning forward Mira shifts her body slightly so that she is focused on Sylar.

"Right now that's a risk I'm willing to take," Mira challenges him.

"How can you be willing—," Mohinder begins but Mira ignores him and proceeds to address Sylar's accusing eyes.

"Some of what I've seen…can you imagine a highly destructive power in the hands of someone who would willfully use it for selfish, self-aggrandizing purposes at the expense of all others? I'm talking about very possible extremes—the enslavement of the human race, the…when you consider what acts have been carried out in this world by those with no additional natural help as a weapon can you imagine the extent of the devastation tenfold—mind control, weapons of destruction in the palm of a hand, laser eyes…"

"And what this vaccine will do is commit scientifically sanctioned genocide," Sylar interjects with his own extreme interpretation.

Mira momentarily hesitates and for the first time struggles with her words.

"I'm not…talking about killing off people with…abilities."

"No, you're just permanently disfiguring them. Shackling them to what?" Sylar berates. "A meaningless life that offers nothing to the future."

"Stop!" Mohinder orders in a firm voice.

Listening to the argument between Mira and Sylar he can hear the pros and cons to both sides and knows full well that the debate will continue on indefinitely if not reigned in. Mohinder finds himself settled in the familiar position of being the flexible middle ground.

He makes eye contact with Sylar who is now glaring at him waiting for some words of wisdom he can dismiss. With a sigh Mohinder looks across at Mira who is regarding him closely. Her face transforms from defiance into resignation.

"The vaccine is being misused," Mohinder tells her, the sternness in his voice unmistakable.

"It's giving parents a choice," Mira quickly asserts with less conviction in her voice than she intends.

"It's taking it away," Mohinder clarifies, keeping his tone very calm. "They —you—don't know what abilities you're taking away in an act of irreversible finality. You don't know whom these kids may grow up to be. In the right hands these powers could take humanity forward as biologically intended. This is a time for responsibility not eradication. This vaccine could be used to wipe out of existence the next stage in evolution. What would become of the world without that?"

Mira raises her left hand to her forehead, gently rubbing it, her eyes gazing at the table. Mohinder looks over at Sylar who he finds watching him with softened eyes.

"My research, the vaccine—it was never my intention for it to be used against people with abilities," Mira quietly confesses, drawing Mohinder and Sylar's surprised eyes to her.

"It was meant to help those who couldn't control their abilities and were hurting themselves and others unintentionally. My experiments were encouraged under a carefully constructed pretense and then it was out of my hands—too late to take back."

Her disappointed eyes rest on Mohinder's and he reads her silent plea for his opinion or suggestions. In the same moment her eyes go to Sylar's and the suspicious curiosity from earlier returns.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" she asks sounding more like she is stating the obvious.

Caught off guard Sylar asks, "What makes you think that?"

Mira gives him a small smile.

"Mohinder can have a welcoming personality, but he doesn't work well with others, " Mira explains emphasizing the word work to hint at the scientific obsession that had come between them. "I should know."

Both Mira and Sylar look at Mohinder who suddenly feels exposed in front of two people who have probably known him the best.

"The only way you're a _colleague_," Mira gives a slight laugh at the word, "is if there is something about you that fascinates him—and his interest tends to be specific."

A sly smile appears on Sylar's face.

"Maybe he's the one who fascinates me," Sylar suggests and Mohinder is certain there is a hint of flirtation in his voice, although whom it is directed at is less obvious.

"Right," Mira murmurs softly. "Don't worry, I won't ask you what your ability is. Mohinder's personal life has not been my business for some time."

"Mira," Mohinder says gently.

"It's okay Mohinder," Mira says resolvedly. Glancing at her watch she lets out an uttered curse and "I have to go."

As she stands up Mohinder jumps to his feet while Sylar remains seated in an observational posture.

"Mira—," Mohinder tries again but he cannot find the right words to keep her there or deliver a secret warning.

"It was good to see you Mohinder," she promptly says and looks over at Sylar. "It was nice to meet you too Gabriel."

Sylar nods and says, "Same here."

Mira looks back at Mohinder.

"How about dinner tomorrow night? It will give the two of us time to talk?" she extends an invitation.

Mohinder plasters a fake smile on his face. "I look forward to it."

"I'll give you a call," Mira says and they exchange a final look before she turns on her heels and leaves.

"Well that was enlightening," Sylar states, his tone indefinable to Mohinder's ears.

 

**_you run out of expression ~~ you let me make a suggestion ~~ you've left a scratch on my face ~~ i can see to this day ~~ you're no innocent man ~~ come and catch me if you can   
\- holly mcnarland, elmo   
_**  
An invisible hand grips the needle in place, mere millimeters from Sylar's neck.

"Really Mohinder, don't you think it's time you switched up your plan of attack?" Sylar taunts amusedly.

Mohinder grimaces his frustration as Sylar sends the sedative hurtling out of his hand and across the room.

"I can't do this," Mohinder mutters to himself.

Sylar rolls his eyes and steps closer to Mohinder, leaning his face forward. With annoyance in his voice he reflects, "I should have never let you meet with her."

"What?" Mohinder asks, confounded.

"You've been brooding since coffee yesterday," Sylar accuses while poking his finger in Mohinder's shoulder. "This should have been taken care of already—instead she's got your mind spinning in circles."

Mohinder feels the anger deep within welling up. With both hands he shoves Sylar back a few steps.

"She's my friend. You'll have to excuse my regret over having to kill her, but I actually care about her."

Sylar steps forward into Mohinder's space again and firmly grips Mohinder's chin with his right hand.

"She's a mark; an important one. She is the key between acceptance and annihilation," Sylar states.

Mohinder wrenches his face back from Sylar's tightening clutch. Turning around Mohinder takes a few steps away before looking back at Sylar with furious eyes.

"This coming from someone who murders with no second thought," Mohinder spits out. "You hypocrite! If you hadn't stopped you would have carried on committing your own act of genocide so do not act now as if the idea is suddenly distasteful to your delicate senses."

Breathing deeply, it looks to Mohinder as if Sylar is working hard to calm down. He keeps his eyes fixed on Mohinder.

"She matters to me. She's like family," Mohinder continues, his voice losing some of its bitter edge while transforming itself into an explanatory plea. "If I can speak to her tonight I can explain…try to work something out to get her away from—,"

"How? How do you plan to save her from this life?"

Mohinder says nothing and lets his eyes fall to the carpeted floor.

"I understand you wanting to spare her…"

Mohinder listens to his voice get closer and looks up to find Sylar staring intently at him with concern.

"I understand that conflict, Mohinder. I get what she means to you. But she's in too deep and the only way to ensure the right outcome is to remove her…permanently," Sylar says.

"No," Mohinder informs him resistantly. "I won't let you."

"This has nothing to do with you letting me—," Sylar argues.

"When I see her tonight—,"

"Uh-uh, you seeing her yesterday is all you get," Sylar says.

"Excuse me?" Mohinder replies bewildered.

Stepping forward he puts his face right up into Sylar's. "I'm not some child you can send to his room."

"After your little display right now do you honestly think I'm letting you out of my sights, let alone handling this without me?" Sylar asks incredulously.

"And what exactly do you have in mind?" Mohinder questions sarcastically.

An unblinking gaze extends tensely between them. Sylar breaks it by cocking a confident smile.

"I'll be sure to tell her you say hi," Sylar promises; his voice low and commanding as he steps away.

The realization of Sylar carrying out the mission on his own startles Mohinder's senses into gear.

"You can't—," Mohinder attempts to argue and he reaches out with his left hand and pulls back on Sylar's right shoulder, spinning him around.

Sylar manages to forcibly grab Mohinder's hand from his shoulder as he turns and presses his fingers into Mohinder's flesh. Gripping tightly, Sylar turns their positions by twisting Mohinder's arm behind his back and pressing it painfully between Mohinder's torso and Sylar's chest.

"You have no say in this, Mohinder," Sylar whispers harshly in Mohinder's ear. "I'll finish it how I see fit."

Mohinder ignores the pain in his twisted arm and slams his head backwards into Sylar's face. Despite aiming for Sylar's nose he gets his lip instead, splitting it soundly. Sylar lets out an unexpected yelp but his grip remains unbroken on Mohinder's arm. If anything it gets tighter.

Through gritted teeth Mohinder pronounces, "She doesn't need to die! There are other options—I swear if you touch her—,"

Sylar spins Mohinder around. Face to face Mohinder sees the blood flowing down Sylar's chin and on to his shirt.

"Please—," Mohinder pleads at the moment that Sylar slams his head forward into Mohinder's.

Falling backwards to the floor in a stunned daze Mohinder hazily makes out Sylar's dark eyes looking down on him.

"Sleep tight," Sylar utters.

Mohinder's world fades to black.

 

**_these bandages cover more than scrapes ~~ cuts and bruises from regrets and mistakes ~~ bandages on my legs and my arms from you ~~ bandages, bandages, bandages ~~ up and down on my legs and my arms from you ~~ bandages, bandages, bandages   
\- hot hot heat, bandages   
_**  
The excruciating pain piercing through the centre of Mohinder's head is the first sign of his return to consciousness.

Tenderly he touches the fingers of his left hand to his forehead feeling along the bruise that penetrates deep below the surface. Mohinder squints his eyes open for a quick glance about. He is still in the hotel room but somehow he is in his bed, under the covers.

The fight replays in his mind. With a devastated groan he throws the blanket off and sits up, ignoring the aching pain, and swings his legs over the side of the bed.

He does not realize he has been hearing the sound of water running until it is shut off. Mohinder looks off to the side at the bathroom door as it opens and Sylar, half-dressed, steps out pulling his shirt on over his head. Sylar tosses a brief glance Mohinder's way, his neutral expression revealing no details of last night's actions after leaving, and continues over to his bed already haphazardly made.

Mohinder does not watch him walk by, preferring to rest his eyes on the floor. His words are trapped behind his teeth; between wanting to verbally rip into Sylar while demanding to know what happened with Mira and wanting to utter unintelligible words seeking forgiveness from anyone who will listen.

"We're heading out in ten minutes. Just received information for the next target. You should probably clean yourself up," Mohinder hears Sylar's monotone voice from across the room.

Mohinder turns his face to watch Sylar going about his normal morning routine, slipping his shoes on and adjusting the strap of his watch. Without a word Mohinder heads to the bathroom. Deciding that the clothes he slept in will suffice he begins washing his face and hears Sylar turn the television on.

When Mohinder is finished he steps out of the bathroom and looks to the television where the morning news is unfolding. Sylar ignores it, instead looking through his personal notebook. Mohinder sits on the edge of the bed and begins to put his shoes on when he hears the name he is dreading.

_'The body of a woman found early this morning has been identified as Mira Shenoy—,'   
_  
Everything seems to get sucked out of the air.

Mohinder can hardly make sense of the words that follow as they devolve into gibberish. He makes out the occasional word like strangulation…genetics researcher…no suspects. Looking up at the screen a photograph of a smiling Mira pops up on screen and Mohinder nearly doubles over with repulsion. Unable to control himself; tears overwhelm his eyes and streak down his cheeks. Mohinder stumbles to his feet and stands, destroyed, in front of the television.

He feels like a failure with Mira's blood on his hands. Bit by bit Mohinder is losing every piece of who he was and he has not decided if the new version of himself is worth it. At the moment the trade feels one sided.

"Mohinder," Sylar's voice calls out and Mohinder feels a hand on his shoulder.

Swiftly Mohinder shrugs it off by thrusting his elbow backwards into Sylar's face. Mohinder turns with the blow and glares at Sylar who is gingerly touching his face feeling for broken skin.

"Don't touch me you fucking murderer," Mohinder coldly states.

Sylar eyes him thoughtfully then picks up his bag and room key while stepping by Mohinder. Staring at Sylar's back and remaining still, Mohinder seethes at the form of the killer.

Opening the door Sylar stops and, keeping his back to Mohinder, says, "I did what was necessary. Get your stuff," before walking out.

Mohinder turns back to the television already with a new story on.

By the time Mohinder gets to the car Sylar is impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

The tension is stifling as their long drive begins, to a place as yet still unknown to Mohinder. His mind is a jumble of thoughts and Mira's face refuses to go away.

Mohinder and Sylar ignore each other.

 

**_and the sun dies until it's reborn ~~ but there's no road that ain't a hard road to travel on ~~ i have a vision in my mind ~~ of a life that i've left behind ~~ and can't you see that lost souls can't swim ~~ you know you'll sink but you still jump in   
\- sam roberts, hard road   
_**  
Consumed by his thoughts Mohinder loses track of time and geography. By the time he snaps out of his introspective state he has no idea where they are.

The more difficult pill for Mohinder to swallow is that he does not care. He feels disconnected not only from the world around him, but himself. For the first time since he got into the car he looks over at Sylar. All intense and focused forward, Sylar gives no acknowledgment of Mohinder's eyes on him.

Looking out the passenger window Mohinder can see they are far from the city, in some village area. Before he can ask Sylar about their location Sylar turns the car off the main stretch and continues along a dirt road that extends far ahead. Curious, Mohinder says nothing, still not ready to engage in any conversation.

In the distance he sees a cottage type home appear nestled amongst bright flowers and tall grass. Bringing the car to a stop Sylar does not hesitate to turn it off and get out. Mohinder quietly follows his lead. He tells himself that Sylar can take on the act of stalking and killing people; he refuses to actively participate any more.

Mohinder's lumbering steps follow Sylar's steady ones to the front door. Sylar knocks firmly three times while Mohinder stands back looking annoyed and irritated. When the door opens an elderly black woman standing in front greets them. She looks at Mohinder and smiles, but when she looks at Sylar her expression becomes serious and she steps back to let them in.

"We have a bit of time," Sylar says to her quickly.

Following her into the house Mohinder notices that Sylar slows down, allowing him to pass by and move closer to the woman as they all come to a stand still in the living room.

From behind Mohinder hears Sylar's voice.

"You have a couple of minutes before we have to get moving."

Mohinder turns to look at Sylar in confusion and then back at the woman who is watching him. Suddenly the image starts to pulse like his eyes are refocusing on the scene beneath the shaken visual and then the elderly woman is gone and Mira is standing in her place.

Shocked and disbelieving of his eyes, Mohinder gasps, "Mira?"

She smiles and Mohinder hears Sylar say, "I'll be over there," as he steps away from them.

Mira reaches for Mohinder and, taking his hand, leads him to sit with her on the sofa. Her touch sets off a wondrous relief within Mohinder and he feels as if he can breathe again.

"What? How?" Mohinder begins to ask.

"Gabriel surprised me last night when I was expecting you," Mira cautiously explains. " He told me about some men from the Company showing up and hauling you off for questions."

Her eyes go to the bruise on his forehead and she reaches up to gently touch it. Mohinder does not shy away from her gesture, allowing instead a welcome remembrance of their past to settle between them.

"I'm okay," Mohinder answers distractedly, not wanting to lose focus. " Gabriel came to you and…"

Mohinder thinks about the isolated location and the disguise of the elderly woman.

"He's helping you disappear?"

"He explained a lot of things—some I had already suspected while others…"

Both Mohinder and Mira look over the back of the sofa towards the kitchen. Sylar is standing in the entranceway between the two rooms watching them.

No, Mohinder realizes. Sylar is watching him. Their eyes meet and the steady gaze held strong is broken only when Sylar looks away and shuffles into the kitchen.

"I don't particularly trust him," Mira observes.

That's putting it lightly, Mohinder thinks but he casts a confused look her way considering the current situation.

"He showed me that power of illusion—incredible really. And he has already gotten me in touch with some people who will be able to help me…"

Mohinder does not know which contact of Sylar Mira is referring to and his expression reveals that uncertainty.

Surprised, Maya asks, "Did he not tell you any of this? Did you not know—,"

"What exactly did you two talk about last night?" Mohinder insistently asks.

Mira starts to answer but then stops and offers Mohinder a knowing smile. "If he said nothing then—I don't think you're supposed to know."

"But why—,"

"I told you I didn't trust him," Mira repeats, but this time with a trace of humour in her voice before getting serious again. "Though it turns out I have something in common with him. "

A questioning look on Mohinder's face encourages her to lean forward and say more quietly, "We both worry about you."

"You don't have to worry about me, Mira," Mohinder says calmly trying to dissuade her concerns.

"Force of habit," Mira jokes. "When I…when I say I don't trust him I mean in relation to myself, despite all this, and everyone else. Not you."

"I don't know what you mean," Mohinder replies unconvincingly.

Mira gazes deeply at him. "I'm not under the impression that his helping me is out of the kindness of his own heart, Mohinder—and neither are you. His motivations are not so cryptic as they may seem."

Mohinder fills in the blanks that her tone is hinting at.

"Mira—," he begins and he does not know why his voice is suddenly sounding so apologetic.

She reaches out and takes a hold of his hand. Smiling sadly at him she says, "It seems we're always saying goodbye to each other."

Mohinder clasps his free hand over top hers.

"If there is anything I can do for you…you have meant more to me than I ever let you know. It was wrong of me to never tell you that," Mohinder confesses.

Mira moves closer and places a gentle kiss on Mohinder's lips that lingers between them and speaks of acceptance and farewell.

Pulling back slightly they both open their eyes slowly. Mira raises a hand to Mohinder's face and caringly touches his cheek. She glances to the kitchen and then to him again.

"Try to be happy, Mohinder."

 

**_well my heart is where it's always been ~~ my head is somewhere in between   
\- u2, even better than the real thing   
_**  
Watching the scenery whizzing by his window Mohinder feels the words 'thank you' stuck like paste to his tongue.

It is strange enough just thinking about thanking Sylar for not murdering one person while aiding him with all the others. The additional awareness that this time is personal strikes a chord with Mohinder and there is an urge he feels to acknowledge that to Sylar 's face. But each time he thinks he has shifted the words forward, closer to his lips, his mouth shuts tight like a bear trap.

Mohinder wonders when it was that Sylar changed his mind and decided to not only spare Mira's life but help her escape to a new one. The amount of work Sylar must have done between last night and this moment leaves Mohinder in awe. Why had Sylar changed his mind? It adds another worry to the list, as they will now need to make sure she remains hidden. It is a risk that Mohinder is willing to take, but Sylar—and that he did this without Mohinder's knowledge only serves to confuse the situation.

Mohinder looks over at Sylar, driving expressionless, and is mindful of the silence they have driven in since seeing Mira; a silent treatment Mohinder set into motion and now wishes he could call off.

Opening his mouth to speak Mohinder immediately clamps it shut. With a small sigh he turns to look out the window.

"You're welcome," Sylar says firmly.

Mohinder looks at him, blindsided. Sylar takes a moment to look away from the road and settle his eyes on Mohinder's. A couple of seconds pass weighted down with what neither of them will say out loud. It is up to Mohinder to dictate the tone that will now exist between them.

"How's your lip?" Mohinder asks.

Sylar gives him half a smile and directs his focus back on the road.

"Nothing to it," Sylar replies. "How's your head?"

Mohinder gives him a small smile.

"I've been through worse," he pretends to casually shrug off the pain.

Sylar grins.

Looking out the window Mohinder asks, "So where are we going now?"

"The information is in the glove compartment," Sylar tells him.

Mohinder opens it up and retrieves the envelope.

"Read it out loud," Sylar says, but it is not sounded out as an order.

Rather the words carry the tone of a request that Mohinder understands very well. On a superficial, but necessary, level they need to get familiar with the next target before they reach their next destination. Just as important, however, is the need to take back all the hours stolen by silence that scraped soot away from hidden drawers and revealed the ugly engravings on top of secret, breathtaking, compartments.

Clearing his throat, Mohinder begins reading the letter out loud. 

**Author's Note:**

> **Nominated for Best Mohinder/Sylar (G-PG13)**


End file.
